


Your Kiss Was A Red Tattoo

by fallsouthwinter



Series: The Cottage Years [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Pillow Talk, Sharing a Bed, Sort Of, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 19:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20765831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallsouthwinter/pseuds/fallsouthwinter
Summary: Aziraphale has tattoos. Crowley appreciates them.





	Your Kiss Was A Red Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> _Originally posted on tumblr - [fallsouthwinter](https://fallsouthwinter.tumblr.com/post/187915606611/your-kiss-was-a-red-tattoo)_
> 
> This was originally going to be part of A Brand New Angle, but after reading over what I had, I realized it was it's own self contained fic. So, here it is.
> 
> The title is from a Sailor Moon song, of all things, [Moon Revenge](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnoOOXqSX2Y). It's all I could think about when I was looking for a title, and I have had this song stuck in my head for the past _two days_.

Aziraphale had tattoos.

Crowley had only seen the tops of a few of them, briefly, once, a long time ago. Crowley thought about what the tattoos looked like, a lot. He didn’t want to ask Aziraphale, no, that would have given him away and he really did not want that at all. Not at all.

Aziraphale had wings inked across his back, absurd considering who they were tattooed on, and Crowley honestly would expect nothing less. They were almost cartoonish, heavy black lines denoting feathers. Aziraphale said he hadn’t wanted them to look realistic, and Crowley didn’t ask why.

There was also a small halo on Aziraphale’s upper back, in the area between the wings, neck, and shoulder blades. There was a “glint” of light coming off the halo, and it was just as ridiculous as the wings. Crowley couldn’t help but press a kiss to it, right over that ray of light inked onto the skin. Then he moved to the shoulder blades, the inked joints of the wings, and down to the ends of the long primaries.

Crowley reveled in the warm skin beneath his lips, and in the sharp intake of breath that came every time Crowley placed a kiss somewhere on Aziraphale’s back. He had a map to follow, made of lines of faded black, and Crowley wanted nothing more than to trace every single bit of it.

There on Aziraphale’s lower back was some script, flowing words which Aziraphale informed him was a quote from The Picture of Dorian Gray: _“To define is to limit”_. Crowley found himself a little annoyed at Wilde being permanently attached to the angel’s body, and even more annoyed that he liked the quote.

But his eyes kept trailing up, where another tattoo wrapped around Aziraphale's left bicep and disappeared over his shoulder. Crowley couldn’t help but think of what it looked like, but would Aziraphale really get a tattoo of that? 

“Angel,” Crowley said, tapping the offending arm. “What’s this?”

Aziraphale froze, the page of the book he’d been reading falling from his fingertips. He turned a sheepish face towards Crowley, made all the more endearing (in Crowley’s opinion) by the spectacles perched on Aziraphale’s nose. “Ah, that one. It’s relatively new. Got it in the year 2000.”

“Yes,” Crowley replied, impatient, “but what is it? If I didn’t know better I’d say it was a-”

Aziraphale rolled onto his side, book clattering unnoticed to the floor as he faced Crowley. Crowley stared.

It _was_ a snake. A black and red one, that coiled around Aziraphale’s arm, hanging over the shoulder, head laying over Aziraphale’s heart. There was even a very realistic looking apple within the snake’s coils.

Crowley made a choked sound as he tried to remember his words.

“Yes, I know, it’s a bit strange,” Aziraphale said, a flush creeping up his neck, “but I couldn’t help myself, and I figured you’d never see it anyway-”

“Never?”

“Well, I- you see, this was - I wasn’t really - hopeful about our situation?”

Giving Aziraphale a look, even one that Crowley couldn’t describe if he had seen it, considering how many emotions were flying around his head, he did the only thing that seemed to make any sort of sense: he pushed Aziraphale over onto his back, and pressed a kiss to his chest, right above his heartbeat. Right where that snake’s head lay. Then kissed Aziraphale again, sliding his lips over the angel’s, hands digging into the sheets and eyes squeezed shut lest he implode from all these feelings. Crowley felt Aziraphale gasp into his mouth, his hands finding their way into Crowley’s hair as he arched into the kiss.

“What about now?” Crowley asked, pulling back to look at a speechless, panting Aziraphale, mouth reddened from their kiss. His spectacles were askew, and Crowley nudged them back into place.

Aziraphale’s hands slid down to Crowley’s neck and he smiled. “My dear, how could I not be anything but joyfully optimistic now?”


End file.
